


Finding Their Way In

by FoxRafer



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-12
Updated: 2012-02-12
Packaged: 2017-10-31 00:31:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/337932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxRafer/pseuds/FoxRafer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for the <a href="http://jim-and-bones.livejournal.com/"><b>jim_and_bones</b></a> Reel Love Challenge. Chose to turn <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0093640/"><b><i>No Way Out</i></b></a> into a romantic comedy. This is an AU where they do not become friends at the Academy, and were not handed the keys to the Starfleet flagship after the events of the film. They serve on the <i>Enterprise</i>; McCoy is a top surgeon and second in command in medical, Kirk is first officer with the rank of commander. The action begins on Starbase 12, where the ship is docked for repairs and refits.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Finding Their Way In

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [**jim_and_bones**](http://jim-and-bones.livejournal.com/) Reel Love Challenge. Chose to turn [**_No Way Out_**](http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0093640/) into a romantic comedy. This is an AU where they do not become friends at the Academy, and were not handed the keys to the Starfleet flagship after the events of the film. They serve on the _Enterprise_ ; McCoy is a top surgeon and second in command in medical, Kirk is first officer with the rank of commander. The action begins on Starbase 12, where the ship is docked for repairs and refits.

Leonard McCoy continued his idle wandering through the ballroom, doing his best to keep his fingers from fiddling with his collar. It must be a prerequisite that dress uniform material be so unforgiving. And that formal Starfleet functions be filled with so many stuffed shirts. If he thought he could get away with spending the evening with a few shots of anything warming his blood, he would have snuck a flask in. As it was he was annoyingly sober, uncomfortable as hell, and bored out of his friggin' mind.

His expected attendance at these types of events was the least favorite part of his job. It had nothing to do with medicine and everything to do with glad-handing, and McCoy could think of no more asinine way for a doctor to spend his time. But despite a growing headache, and a smile he knew must look forced and strained, he'd dutifully made his way around the room, making sure everyone's partner was paid a compliment and every VIP was given his rapt, albeit brief, attention.

Some part of the blasted uniform had just begun to pinch him in a very unpleasant place, when the one thing that would make the evening worse began to stride toward him, a big annoying grin plastered on his face. James T. Kirk, his overly-personal, regulation-hating first officer. Not a bad guy, in theory, and McCoy had to admit he did enjoy how often Kirk pushed the boundaries of what sometimes seemed like ill-thought-out and arbitrary Federation policies. But the man's over-exuberance and seeming compulsion to be McCoy's best friend pretty much guaranteed that McCoy would go out of his way to avoid spending time with him.

 

As Kirk waved at McCoy, the gesture just as broad as the smile on his face, it was to his great delight that his favorite doctor was well and truly trapped. Proper decorum meant cursing loudly was out, storming off on some made up errand would be frowned on; for once, McCoy was going to have to stick around for some obligatory – and forced – conversation.

He'd been attracted to McCoy from the day they met, a purely physical, lust-fueled interest that kept the good doctor front and center in his thoughts for ages. But as his admiration for McCoy grew, so did his affection and desire, and it was only McCoy's patented annoyance with everything Kirk-shaped that kept Kirk from attempting to turn their relationship away from purely professional. Or at least kept his attempts to the smallest weapons of his seduction arsenal.

"Bones!" he called out, slapping the man vigorously on the back and taking perverse pleasure at the grimace that always made an appearance whenever he used the nickname. "Looking sharp tonight."

McCoy leveled a steely yet tired gaze at Kirk. "Commander," he replied through a tightly clenched jaw.

"The ideal Starfleet officer, all crisp and polished and ..." his voice trailed off as he looked McCoy up and down. "And definitely in need of a little medicine."

"Really? And what exactly would you prescribe?"

"Something of the good Southern variety. How long have you been here?"

"An eternity."

"So a couple of hours then. Paid your respects to all the important people? Said hello to everyone who knows you? Then I think it's time for a little discrete exit, and a few swigs from the bottle of whiskey I stashed when I got here."

Kirk didn't let it bruise his ego that the idea of the alcohol put a glimmer in McCoy's eyes when the idea of spending time together did not; he'd expected as much. But in the end he'd still get some alone time with the doctor and earn a couple of brownie points to boot. A win/win all around.

 

One mouthful of the blessed liquid and McCoy felt the tension in his body begin to lessen. He didn't know how Kirk had managed to get this into the large storage room behind the kitchen and frankly right now he didn't care. It was just another of those impossible things the kid managed to get away with. Grudgingly, McCoy had to admit that Kirk was sharp, a quick mind and fast wit, more than likely destined to become the youngest Starfleet captain in Federation history. And when he put away the cock-sure pretty boy routine, he wasn't too bad to hang out with.

Like now, for instance. McCoy had barely had anything to drink, despite being back here for several minutes, and yet still wasn't aggravated by his first officer. Maybe a touch of annoyance or irritation but that was almost a prerequisite with everyone. And if he let himself think about it too much, he'd have to say he was actually enjoying himself. There was more to this man than met the eye, and despite his better judgment he was beginning to want to see it. Undoing the top fastenings of his uniform, McCoy sat back against a row of crates, letting himself relax for the first time that night.

Kirk wasn't sure why McCoy wasn't drinking more but right now he didn't care. For the first time in possibly ever they were having a real conversation, and he didn't need to get the man drunk to achieve it. He'd always known the basics of McCoy's story; he'd read his file more times than he'd ever admit. But now he was finally getting to know him, listen to that warm baritone voice and watch as his long-harbored crush morphed and gelled into something almost too frightening to accept. And yet he knew those feelings had always been there, lurking just below the thin neutral veneer he tried to project. For a while he thought he'd be happy settling for friendship, but now he wanted so much more, could picture it clearly in his mind. All these months of keeping a firm lid on his feelings, and now they were storming to the surface, making it almost impossible to breathe. Merely sharing the same space with this man sent shivery sparks through him. McCoy had everything Kirk wanted: looks, brains, compassion. It was the unexpected sense of humor that clinched it, the dry delivery and almost devilish smile that played at his mouth. And Kirk finally realized that the gruffness was not really a sign that deep down McCoy honestly disliked him; it really was just ... Bones.

In a way he was glad neither of them were drunk, because it meant when he finally shifted closer, leaned in and kissed McCoy, there was nothing attached to it that could be explained away or shrugged off in the light of day. And it meant when McCoy began to kiss him back, there was not a thing he could hide behind.

 

McCoy woke up slightly disoriented, for a moment unsure exactly where he was. He looked around the room and it suddenly came flooding back. The Admiral's reception; ducking out early with Kirk; having mind-blowing, how-can-this-possibly-be-real, sex with Kirk. It was like realizing you actually liked the little girl whose pigtails you pulled on the playground. And the even more shocking realization that she, or in this case he, liked you too.

It would have been so much simpler had it just ended there, some nice lust-fueled gropings, a hasty goodbye, a few awkward days around each other until they both got their feet and could slide back into 100% professionalism again. But instead they'd not only both stayed for breakfast, they spent the entire weekend together, mostly just hanging out and talking. It had been far more intimate than a weekend of no holds barred sex could ever have been, and if that warm tingling feeling deep in his gut, that almost heady feeling every time Kirk was near him, was any indication, it had begun to be a whole hell of a lot more important to him, too.

He sat up in bed, casting his eyes over the tasteful if somewhat boring furnishings of the standard issue starbase guest quarters. Now that he was more fully awake, the last two days were anything but a blur, and he still couldn't quite believe they'd been real. It'd been years since he felt this way, and that it was Kirk, of all people. He grimaced a little at the thought, a reflex action more than anything else, but slowly a small smile began to play at the corner of his mouth. He thought he'd sized up Kirk fairly well when they first met: other than his command responsibilities a fairly shallow guy who chased after anything even somewhat sentient, one of those academy boys used to getting away with murder because he was smart, good looking and charming. Most of which, McCoy was quick to remind himself, was true. But there was more under the surface that McCoy was only now seeing, a generosity of spirit, a warmth and depth of feeling he'd thought him incapable of expressing, and the genuine affection he saw in Kirk's eyes spoke volumes. McCoy thought he was finally seeing Kirk for the first time, and he couldn't believe he'd kept him at arm's length for so long.

At that moment the door slid open and Kirk walked in holding two mugs in one hand while balancing two plates on the other arm. McCoy reached to grab the dishes when Kirk was within reach, sensing they were in the most precarious position.

"Why didn't you use the food synthesizer?" he asked as Kirk slid back into bed, clumsily shedding clothes as he went.

"Didn't have any cards."

This weekend had been far beyond what Kirk could ever have imagined. He hadn't set out to seduce McCoy at the reception, at least no more than his usual drive to seduce him since the day they first met. But when he saw an opening, a slight crack in the doctor's apparent permanent irritation with him, well his mother didn't raise a fool. But for it to turn into this ... he was almost afraid to talk about it, to even think about it too much, for fear he'd jinx the whole thing. But in a few hours they'd be back on the _Enterprise_ and he couldn't help wondering if that would be it, if they'd go back to being nothing more than crewmates.

Whatever the future held, he at least could try lengthening the here and now, give them more time together before reality came knocking. Half the reason he'd gone out looking for a commissary was to find out what events were scheduled for the day at the starbase, but unfortunately there wasn't a lot to choose from.

Kirk realized he'd been slightly lost in his head for a minute and sheepishly turned toward McCoy who handed him one of the plates.

"You brought back toast."

"And coffee," Kirk added, pushing one of the mugs into McCoy's hand.

"Is that all the food they had?"

"I told you. No cards."

"But why ..."

"Apparently," Kirk interrupted, "the finals of a big 3-D chess tournament is this afternoon. We could check it out before heading back to the ship."

"Sure," McCoy said without thinking, simply glad it appeared Kirk was trying to think of ways to prolong their time together before heading back to reality. Then his brain stumbled to a halt. "No, I can't." Seeing the look on Kirk's face, McCoy hurried to continue. "I've been asked to help with an outbreak of sobernum poisoning on Jira. I'm supposed to ship out in a few hours, then rendezvous with the _Enterprise_ at Canopus 3."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

They fell into an uncomfortable silence, 

"It's only a couple of days."

"A week, actually."

"It's only a _few_ days." Jim said, pointedly.

"Yeah. Only a few." McCoy's voice was soft and gentle, with the edge of something Kirk desperately wanted to hear. But despite the last forty-eight hours he couldn't quite let himself believe it.

"Look," McCoy continued, "the way I see it, it'll be different onboard but that doesn't have to be a bad thing."

"What do you mean?"

"It means during the day you're the first officer and I'm second in command of medical and if you wanted any kind of interaction beyond that professional capacity I'd kick your ass. But when we're off duty ..."

"I get to call you sweetie pie munchkin face baby love?"

"Try it and you won't be able to sit down for a week."

"Oooh, kinky" Kirk smirked, waggling his eyebrows, "that doesn't have to be a bad thing."

 

Kirk walked into Starbase 12's medical bay, his eyes scanning every visible bed. It had been only two days since the ship had received word that McCoy had contracted a rare, and potentially fatal, disease while on the mission to Jira. Primarily designed for engineering and galactic trade, the base's medical staff weren't able to synthesize enough of the necessary antigens that would allow McCoy's system to fully absorb and accept the treatment. Having encountered a similar virus some months back, the _Enterprise_ had found a way of generating a good supply, and so had returned to help with McCoy's care and recovery.

These had been two of the longest days in Kirk's life. It felt like the ship had been crawling through space, every passing hour serving as fodder for his growing agitation. He'd focused on his job with such singular attention Spock had begun to suspect a prank was imminent, and when off duty he spent most of his time pestering Scotty to get more power to the engines. After pissing off nearly every doctor and nurse on the ship, he officially forbade himself from entering sick bay until after they'd arrived at the starbase for fear his interference would hinder their work.

As soon as they'd docked, most of medical had sprung into action, but the reports had been brief and nowhere near as detailed as Kirk needed to assuage his concerns. Today they'd been told McCoy would be transferred back to the ship within the next 24 hours, which should be a good sign. Except none of the previous information had given him a positive vibe, and now McCoy wasn't on any of the regular beds and there were no medical personnel in sight. It was making Kirk's stomach knot, and he was about to start raising a ruckus when the outer doors slid open and Doctor Guerin, the _Enterprise_ 's chief medical officer, entered the room, tapping away at her PADD.

"Doctor," Kirk realized only after she jumped that his tone was louder than was strictly necessary.

"Commander? What are you doing here?"

"I came to see McCoy."

She crossed over to one of the wall displays and began entering in data. "He's still in one of the isolation chambers. We won't bring him round for another few hours."

"Is he going to be all right?"

"Oh yes," she replied, her attention back on the PADD as she slowly walked to one of the desks. "He's only been kept unconscious as an aid to his recovery and to make him more comfortable as the pathogen is eradicated. The doctors here were able to administer the proper serum in time. But there still could be more memory loss."

"Memory loss?"

"Damn!" she exclaimed, putting the PADD down. "Excuse me for a minute. I still can't access the core. I swear, you'd think an engineering station would have better equipment than this." She continued railing against the technology, her voice only marginally getting quieter as she entered one of the offices toward the rear.

"What about memory loss?!" Kirk called, then swore under his breath. He wasn't some junior flunky straight out of the Academy, for God's sake; he had clearance to hear updates on his crew. Giving in to his growing frustration, Kirk took a glance at the closed office door then began looking through the information on the Doctor's PADD. It took no time to find McCoy's record and he quickly began skimming it. An attached file of her observations caught his eye and he paged over to have a look, coming up short at a notation she'd added yesterday.

_"Revived patient to assess potential loss of memory. No recollection of events during past week, although expressed concern he might have 'discovered something'; has a nagging feeling something important happened. When pressed, he grew agitated and considered it nothing more than a side effect of the drugs."_

Before he could read any further, Guerin came back in the room.

"Sorry about that. What were you saying?"

" _You_ were mentioning something about memory loss."

"Oh yes. Patients who've contracted this disease often experience anywhere from a week to a year of lost memories. We briefly questioned McCoy yesterday, before putting him back into isolation, and he has experienced some memory loss of about a week, possibly two."

"Two weeks." Kirk didn't even try to hide the dejected look on his face. He couldn't believe this was happening to him, to them. It was like some kind of cruel joke, where he finally had the one thing he'd wanted for years only to have it ripped away from him.

"If he's lucky, but it's possible there's more that we're not aware of yet."

"Is it permanent?"

"Not always but often, yes." She'd turned away again, half of her attention back on the PADD. "If you don't mind my asking, why are you so interested? Something happen he should know about?"

"Nothing," Kirk replied, sarcasm rolling from him, his guard completely down. "Not unless you count the fact that we sl..." He stopped, his face turning bright red, his eyes large at what he was about to divulge.

"You what?" Guerin asked as she turned around, then seeing Kirk's face her mouth dropped open. "You didn't."

"Don't tell anyone."

"I didn't even think he liked you."

"How can you tell when he likes someone?"

"Fair point, but still. When did you ...?"

Kirk hesitated, wondering how much he should say. Mostly he worried that McCoy would be pissed off that he was sharing something like this with his superior officer. But the cat was, as they say, already out of the bag, and he desperately needed to talk to someone. Who better than someone who had sworn to keep the confidences of their patients? "Over the weekend."

Guerin sat down on the desk, the surprise of Kirk's revelation still evident on her face, but in the next moment slowly changing to compassion. "That's right in the middle of the timeline we're looking at for his loss of memory. I'm so sorry."

"Hey, don't be," Kirk said, trying to salvage some of his usual bravado, "it was just a night, right?" Kirk held his breath, hoping he'd played his cards right. He wanted her to decide it really was for the best that this bit of information be kept strictly between them and not told to McCoy. The last thing he wanted was her trying to help, especially since he suspected it would take a lot to convince Bones it was true.

He could see the slight twitch in her face, clearly thinking about what McCoy had confessed and comparing it to Kirk's casual words. She blinked and looked down at her PADD, continuing her work. "Yes, well, as I said, it may or may not be permanent. There have been reports of cases where something years later triggered a memory that was once thought lost."

"So it's wait and see. As long as he's going to be fine," Kirk began to walk out, "I'll just come by tomorrow when he's ready to leave."

Guerin looked up then, and for a minute Kirk thought she saw right through him. He couldn't hold her eyes, his gaze shifting to the instrument panel and the floor and back. Finally she looked back down at her work. "I'll make sure you're sent his discharge info," she said, a slight smile on her face.

 

"Now why the hell did they send you?" McCoy practically growled when he saw Kirk come into the medical bay. He was tired of being poked and prodded and treated like some kind of invalid. And on top of that they hadn't let him leave yet, for some reason he couldn't comprehend, and the last thing he wanted was another far-too-perky face intruding on him. There were days when he just wanted to wipe that smile off Kirk's face permanently.

"I volunteered, of course."

"Volunteered." McCoy rolled his eyes. "I'm still waiting for someone to come and discharge me so feel free to go. I can find my own way back to the ship. Anyway, I'd rather be alone." He had a lot to think about. Not remembering the mission or the pain of his illness was no great loss. But he hated this feeling that something else had happened, that he was now missing something special. Or, if he was annoyingly honest with himself, some _one_ special. It gnawed at the corner of his mind incessantly, and it was becoming painfully clear that the feeling was very likely not mutual as apparently no one had come to check on him. Well, no one but Kirk, and that aggravated him even more.

"No, I'll wait. We haven't been able to talk since the day you left for Jira and there's a lot to talk about."

"What in the world do we have to talk about?"

Kirk hesitated for only a moment. "You know, ship operations, that kind of thing."

Thankfully he was saved from having to explain himself by the entrance of one of the base's doctors.

"It's about damn time. What kind of chicken shit operation do you run here? All my discharge instructions should already be transferred; I've been ready to go for ages. Why am I still here?"

"Oh, Doctor McCoy, it was a pleasure to have you here ... when you were unconscious."

Kirk couldn't stop the snort of laughter, which only made McCoy scowl more.

The doctor exchanged a quick smile with Kirk, then schooled his features as he addressed his patient. "We were just cross-checking some final test results; you'd be screaming even louder if we let you go and you relapsed within the day."

"If you'd consulted me I could have told you those readings were well within acceptable levels."

"Of course you could. And you've seen this particular disease how many times in your career, Doctor?"

"Am I cleared to leave?"

"Yes. But be sure to follow the medical orders precisely, including the regular battery of tests. I don't want to hear about you bullying some nurse to get out of them."

McCoy slid off the bed and began walking out of the room without another word.

"Don't worry," Kirk chimed in. "Doctor Guerin will be the one bullying McCoy. Thanks for taking such good care of our crewman."

"If the _Enterprise_ hadn't been so close, I fear the outcome might have been very different."

"Are you coming, Commander?" McCoy's annoyed voice sounded from the hall. Kirk shook the doctor's hand then jogged to catch up.

"So we have to talk about ship operations?" McCoy sounded less than convinced.

"No, I thought we could talk about the missing days in your memory."

"Since that's not about to happen I guess this walk will be blissfully silent."

"Don't you want to know what you're missing? Aren't you curious?"

"Of course I am. But I can't for the life of me figure out why you're so interested."

"Would you believe you finally succumbed to my charms?"

"No."

"Seriously, though. What if we'd spent some time together and one thing led to another."

"No."

"Just like that. You don't even have to think about it."

"No amount of alcohol, Talithian mind control, or bioneural transference would convince me to sleep with you."

Kirk didn't know whether to laugh or cry. The strength of Bones' lack of interest felt like a sucker punch, and if he didn't know better he'd start to think he'd made up the whole incredible weekend as some kind of twisted fantasy designed to torture him until his dying days. If McCoy wouldn't believe him, there had to be something he could do to help bring those memories back.

"You're part of my crew, Bones, that's why I'm interested. I want to help."

McCoy looked Kirk square in the eye for a minute, trying to decide if he cared enough to figure out what it was Kirk wasn't saying. He settled on a firm 'whatever.'

"The doctors say there's a 50/50 chance it'll come back, and it was only a couple of weeks. I think I can live with that."

"Maybe we can help it along."

"I see, now you know more than medical professionals."

"They did say something familiar could jog your memory, help fit things into place."

"I'm not going back to Jira."

"No, but you stayed here for a few days. Maybe seeing the guest room would help. We're not leaving until 16:30, and honestly, will the ship take off without us? Without me? Let's just make a quick detour, check out the room."

McCoy sighed. He wasn't sure what this was really about, but Kirk did have a point. They wouldn't be back here for a long time, and if something on the base could trigger some of his lost memories now was the time to find out.

"Ok, let's find out where I was staying."

Kirk tried but failed to hide his jubilance. "Why don't we start with the ballroom?"

"Why?"

"There was a formal admiral's reception that we all attended."

"I really don't need to remember that."

Kirk smiled. "But it might help the rest fall into place."

"Fine. Let's go."

 

McCoy stepped into the guest room, more tired than he'd been in ages. He knew he was still recovering, but mostly the fatigue seemed to come from this ridiculous tour of dead ends and unfamiliar places Kirk had taken them on. The ballroom, the kitchen, a storage room of all places: he didn't remember any of it, and most annoying of all, Kirk refused to say how he knew his whereabouts that night. McCoy knew they hadn't hung out together. That would have meant he'd been drunk out of his mind and he wouldn't have attended such an event three sheets to the wind. Now they were in the room he'd supposedly used while he stayed on the base, and this whole routine was getting old.

Kirk took yet another turn around the room, hoping something would jump out at him as incontrovertible proof that he and McCoy had spent the weekend here. But the room had been cleaned, probably numerous times, since they'd been there, and everything around him was generic and sterile.

"Now that's interesting." McCoy's voice broke into the silence, and for the first time since they started this mini walk down memory lane he sounded interested. He crossed over to what looked like a lump of clay, an odd misshapen mass that sat in the center of the coffee table.

"How is that interesting?"

"It's a quarra stone, a statue made by the Gless on Phi Solarii. They say it records images when strong emotions are expressed around it."

"You mean that thing was taking pictures the entire time we were here?" Kirk suddenly felt very exposed, trying to remember exactly what they did in this room.

"Don't worry, walking aimlessly around a room is not an emotion. But it could have recorded something when I was here."

Kirk's eyebrows raised, latching on to McCoy's words like they were a life jacket. "Do you think you were particularly emotional in here, Bones?"

"The point is that this may have some answers, but somehow I doubt we can access the images before we leave."

"We'll have to take it with us."

"If you steal this, Jim, I _will_ report you."

"Who said anything about stealing. You may think you're immune to my charms, but trust me, not everyone is." He pushed the comm button on the desk.

"I don't think I'm well enough to watch you in action."

"Then go back to the ship. I'll be right behind you."

There was a small tone then a woman's voice came through the speaker. "Reception. May I help you?"

"Good morning," Kirk said, a huge smile plastered on his face. "May I be connected to the manager's office, please. It's regarding one of the alien artifacts in the room."

McCoy paused to look at Kirk, skepticism and curiosity fighting to stay and see if the commander could actually do it. But he still felt tired and his better judgment won out. "Fine. But if you do manage to get it, and we're able to pull off whatever it's captured, I'm the first person who sees it. And you only get that privilege if I let you."

"Trust me, you'll want me to see."

"Sometimes you make so little sense it's a wonder you can do your job."

"Just go."

"And I'm going to want something in writing that proves you didn't just swipe it."

Kirk rolled his eyes and frowned, pointing at the door as he mouthed, 'Fuck off!'

 

Kirk slid into the seat across from Scotty as the engineer slowly poured what was likely not just his second cup of coffee.

"Careful, man. You know what Starfleet thinks of addictions."

"It's either this or scotch and something tells me these reports won't actually get finished with the latter. Unless of course you'd like to lend a hand."

"And why would I do that? In case you've forgotten, I've already done quite a lot to help you out. Changed duty rosters, shifted assignments."

"All for your own selfish gains. None of that covers that a certain someone has kept under wraps the fact that you pulled a few Federation policies out of your ass so you could steal one of Starbase 12's relics."

"Those regulations weren't completely made up. It isn't kosher to have a recording device in a guest room."

"And you have the authority to do anything about it?"

"In a roundabout way, a few well chosen words to the right people."

"Or that this person has kept your super secret project well hidden from the Captain and other prying eyes, not without undue stress I might add."

"You said it would take minimal resources, barely noticeable to anything but a machine."

"Not to mention the knowledge and technological skill required to crack the encryption and decipher data in order for the images to be processed. Or that said person has kept your other, more private, secret despite it being bigger news than the exploding black hole of Ursus Prime."

"Okay, you win," Kirk laughed, leaning back in his chair and smiling. "I'll see what I can do." He was feeling a pleasant nervous energy, knowing that very soon everything would be revealed to McCoy and they could start where they left off. Or at least begin again. "So how is it going, anyway?"

"Good. The final images should be finished today."

"Excellent."

Scotty looked at Kirk from above the rim of his mug. "Have you thought about what you're going to do if he doesn't believe it?"

"What?"

"It occurs to me that he might not believe it. He might think you tampered with the image, as a joke."

Kirk stared at him as Scotty returned his attention to his PADD. He worked his jaw but found himself momentarily at a loss for words.

"Why ... I mean he knew what ... he knows I wouldn't ... would it even be possible?"

"Aye."

Somehow the fact that Scotty threw this horrible idea out so casually and now seemed utterly disinterested was pissing Kirk off. That and the fact that his happy anticipatory mood had suddenly come crashing to the ground with the force of a thousand suns.

"But you could tell him the truth."

"What makes you think he'll believe me? I'm your partner in crime; for all he knows you could have ordered me to manipulate the image and then lie about it."

Kirk frowned, his mind whirling through every possible scenario, trying to work out what to do. Finally, he slowly pushed himself out of his chair. "No. No, he wouldn't think that I'd ... No, he doesn't think I'm that much of a ...." Continuing to mutter to himself, Kirk exited the room.

Scotty had set things up in an unused office near engineering about a week ago, and until today Kirk had been feeling hopeful, quietly confident that there would be something hidden in the stone that would prove to McCoy that the two of them had started something special that weekend. It was almost all he could think about, buoying his mood beyond all measure. But now, as he steadily picked up speed – long strides shifting to a fast trot, dodging and weaving through the corridors – the only thing going through his mind was that Scotty was right. McCoy wouldn't even believe his eyes, not when there was even a remote chance that the images could have been tampered with. It was better to just destroy what was there, put a stop to it entirely, rather than see the distrust and censure in McCoy's face, to become someone untrustworthy and petty in McCoy's eyes.

He rounded the corner, bashed the security code into the pad to open the door, dashed inside and came screeching to a halt at the sight of McCoy standing in front of the data display looking at a picture of the two of them kissing like teenagers who'd forgotten how to breathe.

"Bones."

"It seems the images have been processed," McCoy said, not bothering to turn around. "Care to explain this."

"Do you really need me to spell it out for you? Or has it been so long you've forgotten what it looks like."

McCoy turned around then, an unreadable expression in his eyes. Kirk felt like he was being sized up for a coffin or possibly about to be eaten alive.

"If I'm to believe that," McCoy drawled, slowly stepping closer, "it hasn't been all that long after all."

"Look, you can ask Scotty if you don't want to believe me."

"I already did." McCoy stopped just in front of Jim, peering at him as if he was an experiment gone horribly wrong.

"For fuck's sake, Bones." Kirk unconsciously took a step back, but McCoy matched him inch for inch. "Why would he lie to you?"

"He wouldn't. Not after I threatened to perform a molecular variance scan of his entire body, starting with his ass and working my way around."

Kirk blinked, trying to keep up. "But, if you believe him why are you ..."

McCoy clasped either side of Kirk's face and dragged him forward into a searing, mind-numbing, synapse-smashing kiss. Jim had a moment of shocked immobility but, when his brain started firing on at least one cylinder again, began to enthusiastically return it. They clutched and squeezed and pawed at each other until McCoy finally stepped back, unconsciously drawing his fingers across his lips.

"Do you remember now?" Kirk asked, gulping for air.

"I remember ... a feeling," McCoy replied, "not what actually happened."

"Can I help? I could answer questions or ..."

"No. I don't need to know specifics right now. I just ... I don't know. It's a lot to take in but I know it's true." McCoy leaned against the wall, looking anywhere but at Kirk or the picture on the screen. He'd suspected he must have met someone that weekend, knew in his bones that person had been special to him. It'd been annoying to think he might be in love with someone who couldn't be bothered to contact him, to see how he was, to be in touch. Except now, now he knew that person had been doing all of that and more.

Kirk had a knack of grating on his last nerve, but now that he thought about it there had always been something else behind the annoyance, some attraction he suppressed for years, mostly out of habit. And there was no denying that kiss had sparked something deep inside, but what should they do about it? Did he want to relive that weekend, start from square one, or put it all behind him?

Finally he looked up at Kirk, the quietest and most patient he could ever remember him being, just waiting for McCoy to work things through in his head. "What do you want to do now?" McCoy asked on a gravelly sigh.

"I just want to be with you. Whether that means starting over or what, I don't care. I just want you."

McCoy nodded slowly, but there was a slight upturn in the corners of his mouth. "I suppose spending some time together, just talking mind you, couldn't hurt."

Kirk huffed out a laugh. "Don't want things to be too painful for you, Bones. I know the idea of too much time with me must be messing with your head."

"You have no idea."

"There's one thing I need you to know, though."

"Yes?"

"We were not drunk or under any kind of mind control or bioneural whatever when this whole thing started."

"If this was after some ambassadorial shindig I bet I was bored."

"And you make it a habit to sleep with someone whenever you're bored? You must be more active than I gave you credit for."

The laughter that filled the room then was genuine and unforced, McCoy relaxing more into the idea of enjoying this man's company. _Not such a crazy idea, after all_ , he thought.

"Unfortunately, I have to get back to sick bay now. Maybe we could meet up after? You could start filling in some of the holes?"

"Sure, absolutely." He watched as McCoy started to walk out of the room, then was brought up short. "Wait a minute. Scotty. You said you already asked him."

"Yeah, so?"

"He acted as if ... you put him up to that? To get me to come in here?"

"Couldn't wait around all day for you, now could I?"

Kirk thought he could live off that smile for the rest of the week. Hell, for the rest of his life.


End file.
